Fire Emblem: Seed from the Nova
by Hiraku
Summary: Upon his return to Araphen, the journey turns out to be a bit rockier than Uther would have thought...
1. Prelude: Ripple

Disclaimer: Like many other authors here, I am not part of the wonderful people who spent their lives making awesome video games like Fire Emblem as I have no knowledge whatsoever on coding.

Two years since the "Great Movement of Bern", although much of Elibe has begun to recover, few regions of the continent have yet to restore its past grandeur. In the city-state Lycia, because Ostia's Marquess Hector lost his life in the heat of battle against Bern's army, and Pherae's Marquess Eliwood continues to be tormented by his illness, new rulers are to be established. And so, the responsibilities for restoring Lycia are thrust upon their respective heirs, Lilina and Roy. Fortunately, through the aids of fellow countries of Bern and Etruria, while Lycia has yet to shine, poverty, at this point, has yet to be an issue. On the other hand, Bern, the "villain" of this "Great Movement", must bear the brunt of the damage, despite Queen Guinevere's distant relation with Etruria.

The story begins at a village near the foot of the mountains at Bern…

A stream of sunray enters the careless opening in the walls, shining right upon the eyelids of who appears to be a young man with teal-colored hair. And, while his features would resemble any person who walks on the streets of Bern, the fact that his skin is lightly tanned reveals that he is of a foreign birth, perhaps from Nabata, or quite possibly Sacae. Now, obviously irritated by the nurturing blades attempting to cut into his eyes, he lets out a groan and hides under the covers.

Not for long, anyway…

"Uther! Breakfast is ready!" On the other side of the door is the voice of a woman. Although her voice sounds deep due to her age, it is not enough to shadow its clarity like that of the flowing water. It is a loud yet gentle voice.

"Oh!" As soon as the lad lets out a muffling noise against the thickness of the blanket, he moves further away from the glaring light.

After what might seem like an eternity under the dark, it was interrupted by a few knocks on the door, "The food is getting cold. If you aren't coming out, I'm going to have to start without you, you know?" The woman continues, "I would rather not spend my time at breakfast all by myself, and Iris is going to be very sad if you can't come out, in three, two—" "Eeeek" The door slowly creaks open.

Uther lets out a yawn, "You know, you have to stop using that. You can't always guilt me into coming out."

"And yet it's worked all this time, hasn't it?" Before Uther stands a woman in a long, blue dress that has been dirtied by oil and dust, and her white bonnet covers top of her long, green hair. While age has certainly taken away her youth with her slightly wrinkled face, the bright blue of her eyes reveals that she must have once been a beautiful girl decades ago, "I can see that you still enjoy your life as a vampire."

"Yeah… Would seriously like to go back to bed."

"Ah ah! You can't do that. The world is out there for you. There're wonderful things for you to do that you can never do in your sleep."

"Where is Juge?"

"He is out already, probably doing the trades as usual." Still keeping a smile, the woman begins to look a bit unnatural.

"As usual." Uther gives her a glance. As he walks to the table, he stretches and yawns, "Must be hard having to wake up before sunrise…"

* * *

Taking a stroll along the road, Uther nonchalantly looks at his surroundings. The village was in shambles ever since Bern began that war. God knows why they fought in the first place. He remembers spending his entire childhood living in this little cabin in Araphen with his father. Well, he wasn't his father, and he didn't exactly make life easy at times, but since he practically raised him for as long as he could remember, that man might as well be considered his only family. It was a quiet life, at least it was quieter than when Bern finally launched their attacks on Lycia. The last time Uther talked to him, he had to go to his friend while Uther was to stay with this couple his father apparently knows quite well for the time being, which would be about three years by now. Juge and Iris. Strange names, can't stand how they'd tease him sometimes, but they are nice people, nonetheless. Much nicer than father, he's got to admit, and yet he misses his life with his father back in Lycia. 

Right now, it is the princess who is now the ruler of Bern isn't it? Uther remembers how the villagers here spoke ill of her. How she stole the nation's treasures and usurped her brother's throne with the help of a foreign nation, by a lordling who goes by the name Roy. Uther himself can never imagine the princess to be a villain. Princesses are supposed to be the kind souls who are waiting to be rescued by the prince, right? Maybe her brother is the villain, and that Roy whom the princess decided to follow during the war is her prince. And she's proven that she's a good person well enough, and quite honestly, the villagers don't really seem to care who takes the crown at all. Two years after the coronation, the queen immediately uses whatever funds Bern have left to rebuild the homes for her people. Once the village has been restored, the villagers kept their mouths shut and return to their daily lives.

Like there never was a war in the first place.

"Ripples." Uther tosses a piece of pebble into the river and watches the wave disappearing from the surface, "fun."

"What are you doing here all by yourself again?" Startled by the voice behind him, Uther immediately turns around.

"Oh! Whew! Juge… Don't scare me like that!" Uther lets out a sigh. The man whom he calls 'Juge' is someone in a plain, brown set of clothes no different from any other villager in the area. Perhaps what would set him apart from the others is the fiery red hair that is rarely seen among the public.

"Just got to go back to give Iris some good news. How about you?"

"I got tired from reading, so I decided to take a walk." Uther scratches his head, "Well, it's not some big book, but I have to do something to keep myself busy."

"Could use some help in the business."

Uther shrugs, "Not exactly interested in trades."

"Is that so?" Juge takes a long look at the river behind Uther, "Figures. Nothing is better than this, isn't it?"

"Can get better." Sitting on top of the grasses covered in powder white, Uther starts drawing circles on the snow with his finger.

"Well, this place certainly isn't Araphen, but it's good that you're used to living near the mountains now." Juge also finds a seat next to Uther, "I suppose… you still miss your father?"

The moment Uther hears that last word, he quickly replies, "That guy," Uther gives out a scoff, "Let's see... I certainly DON'T miss how he's a miserable old man who can't cook and always drag me out of bed in the dark to beat me with a stick while all he gives me to guard myself with is a twig! And I—" Juge laughs before Uther can even finish, which in return, receives a glare from the teal-haired lad, "Not funny."

After the laughter dies down, something has crossed Juge's mind, "Ah! I almost forgot!" He takes out something wrapped by paper and strings, "Here! Souvenir! From your father in Araphen!"

Uther takes whiff, then turns to look at the little gift and quickly grabs it from Juge's hand like a rat stealing cheese from a mousetrap. Hurriedly unwrapping the papers, Uther uncovers something black and square-shaped, "Amazing! He still remembers! Roasted pork! It's dry, but, well, it's about the ONLY thing he knows how to make! Ha!" Uther takes a huge bite.

"He told me that he's finished his business with that old friend of his just a few months back, says he'll come and take you back to Araphen sometimes this week."

"Oh! He can take his time as much as he likes! Not like I'm in a hurry to leave!"

"Do you really hate him that much?"

"Mm mm!!" Mouthful of food, Uther shakes his head, "Well, I can't say that I like him! But, I'm okay here. Doesn't make a difference."

"Hmm?" Juge leans over and gives Uther an inquisitive look.

Uther takes a big gulp, "What do you want?"

"... Tsk tsk, bad kid. Not honest." Juge shakes his head and slaps the back of Uther's head.

"Ow! Why is it so hard to have a decent conversation with you without resorting to having to strangle you, anyway?" Rubbing his head, Uther gives out a heavy sigh and continues to stare at the river and the trees before him. The sharp contrasts between the ebony and the sieved white force the two to try to overshadow one another, but doing so seems to make them both brighter and more vibrant every passing second. Uther can get used to looking at it until his eyes give out. When they do, Uther droops his head and look at the snow that has been melting, and was dirtied by the earth.

Long before then, Juge has decided to leave the boy be and gone on his way back home, and Uther never—

"Hey, Juge!" Uther turns his head to where Juge used to sit, "Did you ev—"

—notices.

"That moron! He left without even telling me!"

* * *


	2. Prelude2: Return

Although the sun has a long way before going to the darkness yonder, Iris is already in the kitchen fixing dinner.

"I'm back!" Juge opens the door and finds his wife before the filthy stoves, immediately, a bit of disappointment streaks across his eyes. He lets out a sigh.

"Sometimes, I really hope I don't have to see you in here. Even though it's been twenty years, I still don't feel it's right for you to be doing this from morning till night."

"I know, sometimes I don't like it either," Iris laughs, "But, it can't be helped, can it? Remember the first time you asked to make dinner for us?"

"Hey, it was one mistake. ONE. Mistake!"

"As much as I would love for you to help me, dear, the kids were crying whenever they see you near the stove after that 'incident', right? Sorry, but a mother has to put her children's need first."

Not intending to bicker about the past any longer, Juge takes a seat at the dining room, letting Iris resumes her works. Once again, the only one talking in the house is the bubbling of the stew pot.

"... ... So." Juge breaks the silence.

"Yeah?"

"It's nice to talk about things as if we are all still together, isn't it?"

Iris doesn't reply.

"I'm sure they're fine. They were in good care. You heard from Raven, too, didn't you? They're rebuilding the orphanage. Actually, it's going to be a school, I heard. A magic school, even."

"I can only imagine who the teacher is going to be... But, don't you miss them?"

"We'll see them, soon, Juge." Iris takes a sip of the stew from a large spoon and puts on a grimace, "Ugh... right. It's not time yet. Let's wait until things get settled down."

"How would you know-"

"It's a secret. A very, very special gift only your wife has." Iris smiles mischievously like a little girl who just pulled a prank, "very, very special." Stirring the boiling stew, amidst the heat and steam, the pendant hanging from Iris' neck glistens for a moment. Just for a moment.

"Where do you suppose Uther is, anyway?"

"At this point, I can only imagine one place."

"Again, now? He's very popular, isn't he? Well, I'll leave him his share as always."

"You're spoiling him like a servant who'd spoil a prince."

"Every mother would spoil her little boys and girls, Juge. No matter how old they've become. Uther is... spoiled, maybe, but he's still a good person."

"Can't stay that way, forever. Even you know that."

True, Uther is what most people would consider to be 'lazy'. At times, one would find him to be listless, lethargic, and completely disinterested in anything that, well, just doesn't spark his interest. But, he's still well-liked in the village, despite his short stay and his lack of involvement with the works that goes on in the village.

For one thing, he certainly knows how to entertain the children.

"Big brother Uther! Big brother Uther!!" A little boy pulls Uther by his arm, "Let's play another game!!"

"Yeah! Let's play another game!!" "Another one!" Other children follow suit.

"Okay, okay, what do you guys have in mind?"

"Let's play... Hartmut fights dragon!" "Yeah! Dragon!" The moment the boys hear the word, dragon, some begin to shout it with excitement. Some begin laughing and clapping with anticipation. Some even begin to start roaring and jumping up and down, pretending to be the flying legend from tales and storybooks.

"Come on! Uther! There's the dragon!" One of the boys point at a tree, "Kill it! Kill it!"

"Alright! Here goes!" Uther picks up a branch on the ground and charges at the tree. The rest of the boys urge him on as he strikes the tree bark, as if they are actually witnessing an epic battle of their legendary hero fighting against the infamous demon of mankind. Even Uther seems to believe the make-believe himself.

"Hey, Uther!" A person of around the same age as the teal-haired boy passes by with a cart full of barrels, "Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"Huh?" Snapped back to reality, Uther stops lashing at the tree who has not even had a chance to spit fires at him.

"Honestly, playing your hero game again?" the boy jumps down from the cart and picks up another branch, "Anyone can hit a tree. What about a real man, huh?"

"John, please. We've been through this over and over and over... You haven't beaten me yet." Uther shrugs.

"I don't believe I can't get better at it," the boy makes a stance, "I suppose I can put off a moment of work for this."

"Come on! Uther! Show that guy who's the boss here! HE's the big bad dragon!" "Yeah! Kill the dragon, Uther!"

"Hey! Come on, Will, I'm your brother here! You're rooting for someone else?"

"Uther's the hero! Hero doesn't lose!" The rest of the kids agree with the little boy who's being called 'Will'.

"Looks like the odds are against you here."

"Doesn't matter," John shouts and begins running toward Uther, only to find himself being blocked by Uther's branch.

"Damn, you're fast!" John attempts to press Uther down as the branches cross each other.

With a grunt, however, Uther pushes John away, and as they distanced, Uther lunges at John. But, the breaks coming off the end are being blocked as John holds his upright with his both hands.

"Hah! Should've gotten a better weapon!"

"Don't need one! I'm just as good!" Uther twists such that John loses grip, and taking advantage of that moment of distraction from his opponent, he gives John a good thrust, forcing him down on the ground.

"Agh!" As soon as the thud is heard, the boys begin to crowd around Uther.

"Big brother Uther!" "Yeah! You showed that dragon!" "You should teach us how to fight like you!" "Teach us, Uther!!" "Teach us!!"

Watching Uther enjoying his moment of glory, John remains on the ground until the boys finally decide to disperse and find something better to do than to smother their hero. Kids, they've always paid so little attention toward things around them, don't they?

Now that there is only Uther, John finally sits up, "Uther," he lets out a sigh, "Are you really alright with this?"

"What do you mean?" Uther sits next to him.

"You're not completely useless. Why don't you join Bern's army? You're not bad with swords, I can see."

"... ... I don't want to."

"Huh?" John watches Uther confusingly.

"I'm not interested in that kind of thing."

"You've obviously enjoyed it."

"Well, yeah, but being a soldier? It's too much work and too many serious things to worry about."

"They're doing pretty much what you did to me just earlier. Except you probably should've also plopped my head." Uther turns to John, "DON'T think about plopping my head! You're already thinking, aren't you?"

"I'm not NOT thinking about plopping your head."

"Why do I ever bother to be friend with someone like you? In any case, I'm just thinking about what you can do with your life, here. Besides, you can't be fighting just for small games like this!"

"'Course not! I take them seriously! And, for your information, I don't need to worry about not getting works. I DO have works here that are important to me!"

"So, you take your games seriously? I thought you don't want to bother with serious things!"

"The boys are important to me!"

"Why? Because you're their hero?"

"They need someone to admire. I believe I've done my job well. Besides... I have better things to do."

"Where are you going?" John asks as Uther stands up.

"Leaving."

Watching Uther walking off, John returns to his cart, "There's just no way to get that guy."

Treading upon the white snow, Uther fixes his gaze toward the horizon where the sun would descend. While Juge and Iris do know the villagers well, they don't necessarily live among the villagers as they built the cabin a bit further from the rest of the people. Although they're not terribly far from the rest of the community, they do live closer than the rest of the villagers to the thicket of forests nearby. The trees and the village, people say, were also being surrounded by great mountain ranges that were once occupied by a famous band of vigilantes. Famous. Yes.

If only people can remember the names.

Usually, only traders and merchants would find the need to travel by the forest and the mountains. Most people, if they have no business to the outside, they do not intend to leave.

Strange tales have been told of the forests and the mountains, bedtime stories to keep children from wandering off. Big bad dragons, evil witches, you name it. But, having been traveling past those places for more than a year with nothing bad happening, why would anything go wrong for Uther now?

Well, maybe what is currently distracting Uther.

...a horse galloping without a care in the world in Uther's direction.

"Out of the way!" The rider exclaims.

"Whoa!" As the horse approaches, Uther falls to the side, "What's wrong with him, anyway?" Uther turns to take a good look at the horse, as he finds two figures riding on top of it.

"If you don't know how to ride a horse, at least try not to step on other people." Irritated, Uther dusts off his clothes.


	3. Prelude3: Sow

"Leaving already?" Iris picks up the plates from the table, "it only seems like it was yesterday when you've come to live with us!"

"Can't be helped. Dad wants me back. When someone likes him makes up his mind, I only have two options: One, comply without questions asked; two, being tied up and dragged behind his horse."

Juge gives off a laugh, "That man's really opened up since then, hasn't he?"

"Juge, I hope you never told him anything like that when you saw him," Uther sighs weakly, "People like him don't deserve needless encouragement. In fact, people like him should be barred from any contact with children! Do you know kids run away when they see his face?"

"Now, now, it can't be all bad, going home. There's got to be something you like about it back there in Araphen, right?"

"I hear they're almost fished with the reconstruction of the orphanage there. I'm sure the children will be happy to see you back, ri-" Iris stops herself abruptly, "(I completely forgot! Why did I have to bring that up?)" She thinks.

"Yeah, definitely!" Uther replies with a grin, "I bet those kids can't wait see me back! I mean, it's already been two years since the war's over. It's stupid to be upset over something like that!" he then turns his face to cup his chin, appearing to ponder some deep thoughts as he mumbles, "I just need to make sure the old man steers clear of the orphanage, or the kids are gonna start crying the 'closet monster' again…"

"Well then, thanks for dinner! I think I'll be sleeping early tonight!" Uther turns to the door at the corner of the house.

Hearing the door closing behind him, Uther walks forward and collapses onto his bed with his face buried into the sheets.

"(Fourth time counting this one," Uther crosses his arms on top of his forehead, eyes closed, "(I'm absolutely sick and tired of this, even though I'm just going back.)"

For as long as Uther can remember, he has been moving from places to places. Even when staying with a man whom he currently claims as his father, they had to leave their home in Araphen and travel from one city to another as his father works as a mercenary. Sometimes, tough, he would be left to the care of the orphanage. How his father decides whether he should comealong or stay in Araphen, he never really has any idea. He just naturally assumes that is simply a part of his father's crude and selfish nature.

Fast-forward to two years in the past, that was about the time when Bern started invading the cities in Lycia. Araphen was no longer a place for the two to stay at all, but this time, Uther was entrusted to the care of two of his father's closest friends (actually, they were just people he happened to know), who were also among the many fugitives of the war- Juge and Iris.

This time, Uther is once again leaving for another 'home', hopefully for the last time.

"(I wonder what that bum is doing out there on his own right now)"

"Ah-choo!" A middle-aged redheaded man who was setting up tent near the trees suddenly gave a violent sneeze. He roughly wipes his nose with his arm, "winter is surprisingly early today." At this moment, the man catches a glimpse of a flash passing by his side-glance. Before he knows it, a faint thud is made, followed by a series of rustling growing louder by the moment.

"At least I won't be sleeping alone." The man takes a leap just as a shadow cuts its way out of the tall grasses. But, when the shadow makes a slash, it finds itself cutting air. Confused, the shadow looks at its left and right-

"Unf?!" The shadow feels a small jab at its back.

"You really shouldn't make me have to jump like that. Comparing to the man I was twenty years ago, I now had to make at least twice the effort to make the same somersault." The man feels his victim trembling, "Scared already? You must be new. Now if you're ready to talk, I might let you leave with your pants still dry."

The next day, Uther finds himself asleep on top of the covers without even changing into his sleepwear.

"Man, I must be really tired last night! I don't remember doing anything strenuous, though." Slightly tilting his head toward the window right behind his head, he sees that the sun has barely risen from the horizons as the sky is the color of dark blue. But, it won't be long before it turns into sky blue.

Uther likes the color of a bright, blue sky.

"Seeing as I get to wake up much earlier than usual, this should be a good day."

When morning has finally arrived, just as Iris is getting breakfast ready, Uther comes out of his room with a baggage.

"Morning, Uther! Um…" Iris looks at the bag in Uther's hands, "is that all you will be bringing with you back home?"

"Pretty much. Clothes and rations. Oh, was I supposed to pack my bed, too?" Silence takes reign, "That was a joke in bad taste." Uther adds.

"Wait, is Juge gonna be here for breakfast?"

"No, he left early. He has business to attend on the border of Bern today."

"Aww, that's a shame. I was hoping that he'd see me off today, too. Maybe I'll run into him at some point today. I'm going to be meeting him up at the mountains near Pherae."

"I thought your father will be coming to get you by himself."

"Mmehhhh… I'm thinking of-

"Dok dok dok"

"-Let me get the door." Uther walks to the door and turns the knob, and finds a sandy-haired man standing on the other side of the doorway.

"John? What are you doing here?"

"Alright, here is the thing," John points at the empty cart, "I have some things to do at the marketplace in Ostia. It'll be a bit of a detour for me, but I can drop you off at Araphen."

"I was planning to walk to save my dad some trouble of actually coming here himself, but I guess it's also going to be my lucky day today!" Uther turns to Iris, "Well, then I guess I will have to get going now, thanks for letting me stay for all these time!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, no breakfast?" Iris puts off her work in the kitchen and runs to the front door.

"Uh, well…"

"You should eat something before you go. You, too, John, especially since you're working today!"

"No, it's okay, really, I already-"

"You can always eat more! The two of you should really learn to take better care of yourselves! For goodness sake, you're almost twenty!" Iris returns to the kitchen, and soon, Uther and John can hear the clanking sound of the dishes.

"So you wanna uh…." Uther walks back to the dining table with John.

"I guess. I hope it won't take too long. Dropping you off, working at the port," John gives a sigh, "Working life is hard. I hope I can make it back soon."

"Why, do you have something important?" Uther asks as the two find their seats.

John wearily gives Uther a glare.

"Oh wait… Oh… Ohhh…." Uther points at John, "Riiighht, how can I possibly forget?"

"Because you're a selfish, insensitive clod. Unlike some people, I have dates."

"Oh really? That must be nice!" Iris arrives at the table with two

"But, you know, all this time, I've only _heard_ that you got a girl. For all I know, you're probably making this up." Uther's remark is soon rewarded with a smack on the head, "Ow! What was that for?"

"Nobody questions her existence!"

"Oh yeah? What's her name?"

"Um… Flor-rence… of… Cottontail?" Uther bursts into laughs.

"Hey, I know for a fact her name starts with a Flo-something! And, there IS a Cottontail!"

"Right, and my family name is really the Carrottops. At least remember your girlfriends' names! No wonder you got dumped!"

"Someone wants death." The spoon in John's trembling hand slowly heats up…

And so, somewhere in the world, there is a little house which begins its day with a food fight. Nobody is pleased, but years from now, if someone asks the starter of this disaster. He shall reply:

"_His agony is worth all the oatmeals in the world." _

"Man, that was terrible." Comments a teal-haired boy who sits in the cart behind the rider, "There were oatmeal in my eyes."

"…" John remains silent.

"Hey, come on, you know I was kidding, right?" Uther moves to wave his hands in front of John's eyes.

"Put your hand away. I won't be able to see."

"Are you still angry?"

"Yes."

"Look, you're starting to make me feel bad."

"You should." John grabs Uther's waving hand to get it out of his sight.

"..." Uther sighs, "I really hate saying this, but um… did I ever say that you're still the most popular guy I know?"

"Coming from the nanny, that's hardly a compliment, but good try." John stops to think for a bit, then continues, "Tell you what? You give me one hundred good things about me, and I'll let go of your hand. Otherwise, I'm dropping you off this cart, and you can start walking for all I care."

"One hundred?"

"One hundred."

"But, I only-"

"One hundred!" John turns to show Uther his irritated, scowling face.

"(Oh wow, dark clouds!) Ugh… Okay, let's see, um… One, you have a real job. And, two, I don't have a real job."

"I said one hundred **Good things about me**!"

"… You're making this very difficult, and you are hurting my wrist. Oh! Oh! You have a strong grip! You beat me in arm wrestling every time!"

"… You're practically noodle arm comparing to me, but I'll take that."

"Okay, and three…"

Meanwhile, back in the house, Iris sits on the chair wiping her brow, "Finally, it's done. The two really made a mess in the house." Just when Iris thinks she can relax, someone begins knocking on the door.

"Yes, coming!" Iris walks toward the door and opens it, and is greeted by a red-headed man.

Not her husband, however.

"Raven!?" Iris looks at the man surprised.

"What is it? Why are you giving me that look?" Raven raises one of his eyebrows, confused, "I thought you knew that I was coming to get Uther."

"He left with his friend earlier, I'd have thought you'd run into them at some point."

"He did what?" Raven raises his voice.

"But, he's not alone. He should be fine," Iris tries to reassure the man as well as herself.

"No, I don't think he will be. Somehow, people found out about that he's been living in Bern! They're coming after him!"

"What?!"

"I need to find him, immediately! How long ago has it been since he left?"

* * *

"The fifth thing good about you…"

"Ah, forget it! By the time you get to twenty, I'll be turning your wrist blue." John lets go of Uther's hand. "I'm still angry at you, by the way. But at least we're still friends."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and don't put your head on my shoulder. It's heavy. Shoo!" John swats at Uther's face.

"I'm sorry for insulting your girlfriend."

"I know… hm?" John notices something shimmers off the side of the road, "Did you see-" Before either of the two can react, one of the wooden wheels on the cart gets breaks off, causing the two to fall over while horse starts panicking.

"Wait! Hold it! Rufus!" John holds tightly onto the reins even as he strikes the ground, but his horse stubbornly refuses to listen and attempts to gallop away, dragging his master.

"John!" Uther makes a leap and pushes John, forcing his friend to let go of the rein and his horse.

"Wait, Rufus!" The words does not reach its ears as Rufus whinnies and runs off. "Drats! Why did you do that for!?"

"Sure, hold on to your four-legged buddy, and he'll be dragging a dead man with only half a head!" Uther points at the arrow stuck on the cartwheel, situated directly above John's head, "Aaaand to think that would've been you."

"Curses! The interferer wasn't eliminated!" A voice comes out from the nearby bushes.

"Who's there!?" John stands up and takes off the axe that's been attached to his waist."

"Hm… so there _are_ other things you can do with that besides woodworking."

"Ho ho… do you truly think you would escape death?" Suddenly, a whistle is being made, "Love to play with you, but I got to run! But, they should be good enough for you."

"Huh? What are you-" Before the two realize it, they find themselves surrounded by several men covered from neck to toe in blue with an emblem on their chests.

"Wait a minute… this emblem… you guys are from Ostia?!" John lowers his axe, surprised.

"There is no need for you to know the details." One of the men, pulls out a sword from the scabbard attached to his belt, "You!"

Uther gives a blank stare and points at himself, going, "Hm?"

"Yeah, you! If you go with us now, I might let you and your friend live!"

"Really? You would? Wow… what an offer! Here's my proposal, and it's two words. The second one is 'off'. I wonder what the first one would be?"

"Quiet! Fine! We were told to bring you in, dead or alive! And since you're not coming with us…" The man steps forward, "Who should we kill first?"

"I'd like to start with you!" Suddenly, a slanted slash is made on the man from his right shoulder to his left waist. The assassin falls to the ground as the blood gushes out of his body; his comrades recoil in surprise. Then, a red-headed man returns to the ground holding a dagger in each hand.

"Wait… Juge?" Uther looks at the man quizzically, "I didn't know you could do that."

"You really should've been waiting for your dad. I don't know if I can take on all of them, but I'll try!"

"Well, this sword is not here to look pretty, either! I'll be helping!" Uther pulls out his sword.

"Idiots! Don't mess around! You are up against at least twenty men here!" Juge yells as he jumps and makes another swing at another man.

"John! How many do you think you can take?" Uther asks, completely disregards the elder man.

"Loser has to be the winner's servant for three months wearing the waitress dress in my old man's closet." John makes a stance.

"In that case, start shaving your legs."

"I should be saying that." John runs forward and swings his axe.

"Hey! Early start!" says Uther as he attacks another man who attempts to ambush him.

"Less chat, more splat!" John swiftly lays down his axe, "That's two!"

"Man, I almost feel horrible for making a game out of your lives," Uther stabs into the heart of a lancer in front of him, "But then I remembered, you're also trying to kill me."

"These two, they really should've run away." Juge stretches his left arm and penetrates someone who has a dagger inches away from the redhead's neck, "But, these people are somewhat amateurs, maybe they will be alright."

These men who bear the mark of Ostia, trained professional they may be, soon find themselves struggling against a swordsman, an axeman, and a wielder of twin daggers.

"And, that's six! How about you? Uther?"

"Making good progress!"

"Man! Your swordplay's sloppy!"

"Same to you with your axe!" Uther laughs as he makes an arc, but he doesn't realize the bleeding man lying behind him is slowly getting up.

"Hey, John! How about- Oof!" Uther's eyes widen in surprise as he finds an arm wraps tightly around his neck.

"Uther?" John turns around, "Hey, you let go of him, or I- Agh!" A deep cut is just being made across John's back.

"Or you'll what?"

"John!" Juge lunges at the man who attacked the sandy-haired young man.

"That's enough now! Don't try anything funny! "

"Hey! What's the big idea, anyway? Juge, don't listen to him! Once he's down, we'll win! We can't let him off the hook like this with what they did to John!" Uther struggles to turn his head.

"Shut it! You're in no position to act as you are! And you! Drop the knives or the boy gets it!"

"You're the one in no position to act as you are!" Uther musters the strength enough to bang his head onto the man's face.

"Ahh!! My nose!" The man covers his nose.

"I should be saying the same about my head!" rubbing the back of his head, Uther turns to point his sword at the man.

"Heh! You little runt, I was actually trying to be nice! Can't believe you ruined my nose! This is why I don't like kids." The man mutters.

"I'm turning twenty."

"Wait, whoa, you're kidding!" The man looks surprised.

"Um… weird guy, remember what you're here for? While we're young?"

"Huh? Fine, fine…"

"That man…" Juge looks at the man intently, "He's the only one wearing a robe… Wait a minute," Juge gasps at a sudden realization, "Uther! Get away from him! Hurry!"

"Huh? Why?"

"Because of this!" Feeling heat under his feet, Uther looks around and finds the field slowly turning red.

"El-" Tiny embers start to flicker around Uther.

"Scorch his hands! Fire!" A woman's voice is being heard from a distance.

"Ow!" The man yells as he drops his book, and the embers soon vanish. He turns to the direction where the voice comes from, and there he sees two more people riding on a horse.

"Shit! That's four people I have to deal with! I wasn't paid for this! Forget it!" The man hurries off and disappears into the forest.

"Thank goodness he's alright!" Iris looks into the direction where Uther stands, then she takes a look at the surroundings, "To think that he has managed to lived through such disaster."

"Iris! Raven! Good to see you two here!" says Juge.

"Uther! Going away on your own, you're in trouble for doing something as reckless as this!" The galloping horse stops right in front of the teal-haired boy as Raven gives a terrifying, angry look at his son.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't care! But, you got to take a look at John! He's been lying there facedown in the mud, and I think he's still bleeding!" Upon hearing this, Iris gets off the horse and rushes to bleeding man's side with Uther. She places two fingers on his neck.

"… It's really faint, but there's still a pulse. I only have heal staff, so it won't help much, but it will do for now."

"In any case, maybe we should set up camp here. We need him to rest someplace as comfortable as possible, at least." Juge runs off, "I know there's a well nearby! I'll be getting water!"

Raven turns to Uther who is now staring at his friend, "Get water."

"… Huh, wait, what?"

"Don't give me 'what'. You brought this on your friend; don't you feel even the least responsible for him?" Raven speaks in a stern voice.

Without talking back, Uther takes a look at John, then leaves to follow Juge.

"… I really should've tried harder about keeping him until you came over." Says Iris as she places the glowing staff over John.

"You're not to blame. He should have known better, and I should have been harsher on his trainings."

"Juge!" Finally catches up to the elder man, Uther slows to catch his breath.

"Hey, there. Take a break, why don't you? You look a bit worn out with all the fighting that was going on."

"No, I'm… getting water for John. This… This is nothing! Nothing… comparing to… what he's…" Juge smiles and pats on Uther's back, who then takes a deep breath, "going through."

"Hey… Juge?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being there. If it weren't for you just happening to be somewhere close by… and, um…" Uther stops.

"Yeah?"

"I'm… Sorry… about not listening to you. Actually, I should have waited for dad to pick me up. If I didn't act like a brat then, none of this would've happened."

"… Maybe… But, don't be too hard on yourself. You guys really helped me out then, too."

"That doesn't matter." Uther replies, "My old man's still going to torture me for this."

"Raven, he's just worried about you. Your situation, you know, right?" Uther nods, "Your dad, he's made a big promise to protect you, so he's raised you and took care of you on his own all this time. But, he knows he can't be there for you all the time, that's why he wants to be hard on you, so you can protect yourself when you must."

"… … I know that."

"If you do, then you know what you have to do, right? From now on, don't make your dad worry so much about you anymore, all right?" says Juge. Uther once again replies with a nod, "You're a good son. I know that, and Raven knows that. You just need to work harder. Stay alive and be happy. That's the least you should do for your dad. No, actually, you could say that that's a silent promise that all children have made with their parents since they're born."

For the rest of the walk to the well and back, neither of the two says anything. Not that they have nothing to say, for Uther, who tries to speak, finds his throat to be blocked by some kind of lump and his nose irritated.

"(Forget it. It's too embarrassing.)"

That night, the three sit by the campfire. When Iris opens up the tent's flap, "Uther, come quick! He's coming to!" Uther hurries to the tent to John's side. He finds his friend laying on his stomach, face forward, already regained his consciousness, though not entirely.

"Ugh…" John struggles to look at Uther, "Hey…"

Uther sighs from relief, "Thank god you're not dead. Otherwise, I'd be taking your date from you."

"Uther!" As if the towering figure hasn't scared him enough, Raven's voice certainly sends a jolt down Uther's spine.

John makes a weak smirk on his face, "Like hell… I'd give her- Argh!" John winces in pain as he attempts to raise his head.

"Your back isn't fully healed. Don't try to move! Geez! Your wound's opened up again!" Iris chides as she puts a piece of wet cloth on John's back.

"… Hurts like a bitch?"

"Yeah." John hisses at the burning feeling on his back, then he continues, "… Hey, who won? I forgot the count."

"Doesn't matter. I'll be your servant for three months. Whatever you need to do, the trades, the chores, everything."

"… Don't… Damn freelancer, got too much spare time on your hand? You'll only make things worse. I just won't be getting a couple of coins." John closes his eyes to try to forget about the pain, "Besides, servants shouldn't be doing things on their own. I'll tell you what you need to do, things I know you won't mess up on."

"Oh…"

"Uther?" Raven sends another jolt.

"Uh, um… I'll still help out with your works! I don't know much, but I promise, I'll try not to mess up!"

"Uther."

"I WON'T mess up! Really!" Uther gives Raven a worried look, muttering, "You serious?"

"Would you like to add five hours to your training from now on?" Uther gulps upon hearing this.

"Fine… you can help out with my job, but all your earnings go to me…"

"And, you're still wearing that thing." John adds.

"That goes without saying." Uther drops his head, "Just like we promised, eh?"

­­­­­

**Author's words:**

**I started the idea about this fic two years ago, but I just kinda let it die since then. Life got busy since school (yet I managed to slack off… shame…). Originally, I've started on this fic much earlier, but that one didn't pan out as well as I have liked, so I scrapped it for this one. The main character is still the same, it's still Uther (No, not the Uther you know, this one is an OC who just so happened to share the same name. I think I've mentioned it before… right?)**

**But see, the big reason why I haven't been able to continue with this fic is…**

**When I read over the first couple chapters (I only HAD two chapters then, lol) I realized that I just did something really difficult because Uther… Unlike most heroes, he's… quite unmotivated. He's not like Skywalker or Harry Potter who wanted to get out of their homes because of the terrible conditions they were in. If anything, he wants to stay in one because he feels too comfortable. Hm… that makes Uther a "Frodo" in a sense… Except, there's no evil ring that'd make Uther a fugitive from the big, bad men in black cloaks. Well, not yet anyway, lol. **

**Anyways, when I pick up this story again, it was after months after months of character designs and settings. Who should be in the story, who shouldn't be in the story, what should they be capable of, what are their problems, what are their desires. **

**Even though I'm the writer, certain things happened beyond my expectations. Some people who I wish would take on major roles have now diminished (They'll still show up), but some whom I NEVER thought would show up somehow managed to steal some empty spots! How they enjoy being bathed under those spotlights now.**

**As I edit back and forth, adding and taking out scenes and dialogues, it turns out, the section "Oath to Thee" ends up much different from my original intention. And, Uther appears… less glorious than how I wanted him to be, lol. Something else was supposed to happen. Not that it won't anymore, but maybe later. It's not really disappointing, actually. Because, to my surprise, someone who's not meant to show up till much later in the story has "decided" to make an early appearance. I'll leave you to guess who that is. He might not admit it, but he does like attentions, especially.**

**Now looking back with what I have so far, I think what I have here are actually just pieces of one BIG prelude (headdesks). I think after this chapter, I can FINALLY get on with the real stories. **

**Here's to hoping that Uther as well as everyone else in the story will finally make it to the final destination I have been hoping for. I will attempt to set up opportunities where they would make the "right" choices.**

**See you later, hopefully soon.**

**-Hiraku**

**PS: To Authority Man 37, Thanks for your review. The feedback really does become the fuel for my writing. (I feel so shallow for having to feed on that…) Your reply was one of the many things that had made me pull up a new document to start typing story again. **


	4. Act I: Scene I: Spin

No matter how cold, when under a bright, sunny sky, anyone would feel dizzy from the sun, a perfect opportunity to lie down and take a nap. It's probably the best way to forget about the heat and pass the time.

Unfortunately, that currently is not an option for Uther.

"This doesn't make any sense," Uther mutters under his breath, "We're next to mountains. SNOWY mountains!" He grits his teeth, "Why am I still sweating!?... Oh wait, yeah… I'm pulling the cart in place of the horse." He shifts his eyes to look at the cart that is now slowly moving behind him. For nearly half-a-day now, Uther has been pulling the cart for John as part of his promise to make up for his friend's injuries. John, on the other hand, is comfortably lying on his back in the cart, with his shirt used as a cover while getting a shut-eye.

"Lucky ass…"

"Would you like me to slash you across the back, too?" A stern, monotonous voice pierces Uther's ears like an arrow.

"No, father dearest. Wouldn't dream of it." Uther resumes his slow and arduous cart-pushing, "But, even as punishment, don't you think it's a little too severe?"

No response.

"Guys?"

Question goes unanswered.

"Anybody…"

Nobody likes Uther.

"Who just said that!?"

* * *

Meanwhile, in a little inn near the territory of Pherae, a green-robed mage lets out a heavy sigh as he slumps onto a seat next to the bar counter.

"Barkeep! Give me a pint!" He raises his hands and waves to catch some attention.

"Here you go, sir, the usual!" A bearded, portly man puts down a mug in front of the mage who has now buried half of his face in his arms, "asking for a drink at this hour, isn't it a bit early for young people like you?"

After gulping down to the very last drop of the malted goodness, the mage slams the mug back on to the counter, "Doesn't matter!" he slurs with hiccups interrupting his train of thoughts, "I am… as good as screwed if… if I don't go back to boss with the thing that will make him happy, I am… as good as screwed… if… you know, don't go back with… happy things…"

"Oh?"

"It's 50000 gold! If I catch this guy, Ostia would give me 50000 gold! Do you have ANY IDEA what I can do with that?"

"But… didn't you already make 90000 gold over the past four months-"

"I have 90000 gold!?" Upon hearing this, the mage's eyes widen, and immediately he smashes the counter with both his palms and jumps out of his seat, "What did I do with all that money?"

"Who knows?"

* * *

"Hey, John…"

"Yeah?"

"Is it my imagination, or am I seeing houses ahead?" Sluggishly, Uther drags the rope tied to both sides of the cart while attempting to pull his muddy shoes out of the deep holes he made with each arduous step.

Sitting up, John squints under the shades from his hand, "Yep, you're lucky, it's a village."

"YES! FREEDOM! SWEET, DELICIOUS FREEDOM!!" Uther drops the rope and slops to the ground, meanwhile, Raven gets down from the cart.

"Where are you going?" Uther asks.

"I'm going to see if they have any horses for sale. At this rate, we won't make it back for another year."

"Oh wow… thanks, dad. I know you're a nice guy. I'll be seeing you later, then." Uther waves off his father.

As Raven disappears into the village, John opens his mouth, "So… are we going or not?"

"Wha…?"

"We still have a short walk before we're actually IN the village, you know."

"Wait, you don't mean…"

"Come on! Up, up, my pony!" John claps at Uther.

"Good grief, please let me off already!!"

"No."

* * *

At night, as the clouds veil the moon, the alright dark sky is only being made darker. Thank goodness for the first, nameless man who made good use of the fire, which would only destroy and consume much to the common men's understanding. At this time, unless one carries enough oil to light his way, or if one is a horse or other cattle of sorts, no one would dare to be out on the road. That includes the three travelers who have decided to stay in the inn for the night. Uther, for one, does not hesitate to jump on to one of the beds and imitates a corpse.

"Hey!" a round of knocks on the door follows.

"Enter!" muffled by the pillows, Uther gave his loudest across the room.

As the door opens, Raven comes in with a bowl of stew, "It's probably more watery than what we're used to, but it's better than nothing."

"Better than your bread! We've been eating nothing but bread for a whole day!"

"I made those bread…" John mumbles from the bed across from Uther's.

"Anyway, where do you want it?"

Uther turns his head slightly, and a monotonous yet commanding voice comes out of his mouth, "Feed me."

"…You have got to be kidding me."

"Feed me."

"You're supposed to be a grown man now. Don't act like this." Raven walks over to Uther and puts his hand on his son's shoulder.

"… What?"

"Roll over."

"I'm tired. Why?"

"You can't eat anything lying faced down like this."

"Fine…" Uther lazily rolls over.

"You're also not going to be eating anything lying down. Sit up."

"_You_ help me up."

"What a spoiled brat."

"Shut up, John! I had to be your horse for the day!" Meanwhile, Raven sets the plate on the small table next to Uther's bed.

"If you don't want it to get cold, get up and eat it. I'm going to bed, so I won't be catering you."

"When have you catered me?" Uther pushes against the bed as he struggles to pull himself out of the soft, yellowed cushions, "Eeek! My back!" Uther quickly punches himself repeatedly against his spine the moment he sits up, "Good grief! I'm acting like an old man already!"

"Are you kidding me?" says John as he shifts in his bed to try to help himself feel comfortable with his recovering injury on his back.

* * *

Somewhere not so far from the village, a drunk man robed in green is lying against a tree with his arms around a couple of wine bottles, snoring loudly. His clothes dirtied from the mud, and to make things worse, the color of his sleeves are darkened by the alcohol and drool that leak out of the corner of his mouth.

At this point, he is in a position where he's completely defenseless and unaware of his surroundings. He wouldn't have noticed if a lion roars nearby, or a hungry wolf approaches.

He certainly wouldn't notice the man dressed in light black clothes who is about to kick him awake.

"Hey! You! Wake up!" Giving a few boots on the head, the man reacts by cowering into a ball and covering his head with his hands, giving a loud cry.

"Arrgh! Watch it! I've only had so much sleep lately!" Rubbing his scalp with his right hand, the man sits up, "Damn the headache…" The man looks up, "And, it's Hugh! At least get to know my name!"

"Bah, no matter, you sellswords are the same," The masked man continues, "Now then, it's about time you wore up! Do you know how difficult it is to find a man out in the wild like this?" The masked man asks.

"Yeah, yeah… what is it? If it's about capturing that rascal, I'm not going to risk my life for it again. I could've been roasted alive back there!"

"You're lucky."

"Huh?"

"Another person will fill in for that. I am here to assign you to another job." Just then, Hugh gives out a huge yawn.

"… Can't it wait until tomorrow morning? It's so late at night, and I'm going to find myself an inn nearby…"

"If you get on it now, our lord will promise you at least twice the payment he originally offered."

"He what?!" Hugh's eyes lights up.

"Well, well, look who's energetic." The masked man gives out a whistle, "Hugh, is it?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering… how well do you know of… the Eight Legend?"

Hugh cups his chin and shows a pensive expression (or at least pretends to), then replies, "Hm… If it's scholastic information you need, you definitely come to the right man. The Eight Legend, also known as the eight heroes who had driven away the dragons in the Dragon Human War at least one thousand years ago, were also some of the founders of the great nations we've come to know today. There is Roland, founder of Lycia, St. Elimine, founder of Etruria, Hartmut, the…"

"Alright, alright, that's enough." The masked man holds out his hand, signaling Hugh to stop, "Obviously, you have done your history. Nothing less from someone who has studied anima."

"Hmph! I don't call myself Hugh the Great for nothing!" Hugh points the thumb at himself, brimming with confidence, "You know, a couple years back, Bern, Etruria, and Lycia were all begging to have me join their armies during King Ephidel's conquest!"

"Yes, of course, you've been talking about that over and over again…" The masked man looks away out of sheer irritation toward Hugh's haughtiness.

"And, it's something worth noting! So! When do I get paid?" Hugh holds out his palms in anticipation for something heavy and shiny.

"…" The masked man raises an eyebrow, "Definitely not for a while! Do you honestly think we were going to pay you for a history lesson?"

"Wha…" Hugh's jaw just dropped, "Hey, come on! That lecture's GOT to worth SOMETHING!!"

"If our lord wants a lecture, he'd certainly ask from one of our court scholars. No, what he WANTS you to do," he pulls out a map from his sleeve, "is a treasure hunt."

Hugh stares at the map, "So, assuming that you want me to go to where the X mark is… wait, isn't this… This is insane! You want me to go to the Nabata Desert! That's suicide!"

"Don't want the money for your dying grandma?"

"Well… then I want double!"

"Not happening." The man shakes his head without a moment of hesitation.

"The effort I'm gonna have to put through this mission definitely is worth a lot more than what you guys plan to offer."

"No one is putting a knife to your neck right now. You can walk away, and we will find someone else. Simple as that."

"No, I… Ahgghh!!!" Hugh grabs his hair and bangs his head on the ground, then starts rolling in fetal position out of frustration, "I want the money, but there's no point in having them if I might die in this! But, I really, really, really want the money… You're not being very nice guy about it!!"

"What if we offer you the best help and guidance at your disposal? And… we will pay you 8000 just for agreeing to join this mission." Hugh looks up at the man from the ground as a great weight has been lifted off his back, "You… you're giving me 8000 for giving you a nod and a handshake, AND you're making me a boss. You're serious?!"

"Is that a deal? Because quite frankly, your skills are something of rare value," the man mutters in his breath, "As much as I hate to admit…"

"(It's dangerous, but at least I get 8000 gold. If I can stay alive long enough to use that money, I supposed it's worth it.)" After a short pondering, Hugh lets out a sigh, and stands up from the unsightly disgrace in which he had placed himself, "Alright, you got yourself a deal. But, if things start to get hairy, I want out with none of that 'fail-and-die' nonsense you assassins do."

"This is why I don't like mercenary. Them and their negotiations…" The masked man replies, "Alright, you got yourself a deal. You will get the resource and people you need in one week at the latest. Now let's get going." The man turns away.

"Huh? Where are we off to?"

"To Badon. Going there by ship is faster than crossing all those mountains. The rest will also be meeting us there."

* * *

The next morning, the sun ray passing through the windows slowly heats up Uther's back, but he can get used to the burning feeling and remain in his comfortable slumber. What will force him out of his bed, however, is the beating of the wheels against the rocky trail outside, and as if that isn't irritating enough, a "BAM!" resonates across the quiet village, effectively killing a beautiful start of a morning.

"The hell with the noise outside…" The loud and obnoxious yelling among men, quite obviously either soldier or merchant of sorts, has been booming past the wooden walls of the inn. Either way, it definitely does not sound like a normal conversation amongst the local villagers. On top of that, there are the whinnying of the horses occasionally accompanying the talking. Uther walks out of his bed and slowly to the window to check out the commotion through his half-open eyelids and his fingers that are now trying to rub off the itching pain of sleepiness.

"… What are you doing, handling the cart like that?! Lord Wykeham warned us not to harm the… cargo, before reaching Badon!"

"You'd think a horse is so easy to manage?"

"I don't care how it's done! But, if we can't get to Badon in seven days with the cargo arriving safely, lord knows what will happen! Now help me with the cart!"

"Honestly, I don't know why that sorcerer is getting off so easy comparing to the rest of us…"

Watching the scene from the second floor window, Uther barely understands the situation. At this time, he is just staring at the two men, wishing that he has a bucket of water by his side and go back to bed.

"… shut up and go already…" Just then, he hears a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

"Uther! Get dressed already! I got a horse, and we're going to leave without you if you don't-" the door opens to Raven, as Uther walks past his father while giving out an exasperated groan.

"I'll see you outside… as if I'm not tired enough already…" As the boy walks down the stairs, a voice flies across his head.

"Hm?" That seemed to wake him up a little. But then, it was almost as fleeting as a dragonfly tapping on the water.

However faint and incoherent it may be.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the looong delay. I was planning to upload this chapter along with Scene II. But, I've been debating as to how I will see this story to the end.**

**I think I have an idea, so I will be drabbling on that.  
**


	5. Act I: Scene II: Weave

"Uther! Behind you!" Using the hilt of his sword, Raven gives one of the soldiers one, clean blow on the back of the head, while Uther ducks immediately to avoid what would have otherwise been his demise. And, by crouching on the ground, he ends up tripping the soldier behind him.

"Whoo! Well, that was a close call. That kick on my behind still hurts, though."

It was the third day since their departure from the village. Unfortunately for them, they were not able to follow their original route back to Araphen due to a crashed caravan of mercenaries nearby, effectively blocking the old dirt path that has been trodden by horses and people for god-knows-how-many-years. Instead, they ended up traveling through the narrower trail between the mountains near a small city known as Tania. It would not take long before reaching Tania, give or take a week or so, and, comparing to the dirt path, would be considered a short cut to Araphen. But, crossing the forest and mountains can be quite dangerous.

Such as the ambush right now.

"John! You alright with the horse?"

"Yeah!" Tightening his grip on to the reins like a drowning man on to the straws, John is swinging his axe across the skirmish, even though the trampling of his horse seems to be doing most of the work, "It's my first time on a horse for something like this! But, I will survive!"

"We need reinforcements!" Not so far away, a soldier cries, "send in the archers!"

Before the three realize it, arrows fly out from behind rocks and cracks and begin showering the field.

"Shit! No way we can fight this! Uther, John, get out of here!" Raven slashes another soldier to try to clear an opening before him.

"Dad?"

"How thick do you expect our shirts to be? Without armors, we're sitting ducks. Run!" Another soldier is being elbowed in the stomach while trying to sneak up behind Raven.

"Right. Uther, get on!" John rushes to Uther's side to give him a hand, and the smaller one grabs on without hesitation.

"Don't have to tell me twiiiiiiiiiii!!" Unfortunately, the horse is not a patient one. Uther ends up almost being dragged in the midair.

* * *

"I thought I was going to die! How we even lose those soldiers was something even I don't know!" Having been pulled across the rocky path behind a panicking horse, Uther's arms have been sore for hours, and his shoes shredded on the edges due to the abrasions and tears by the sharp stones. Now he is lying eagle-spread by the campfire attempting to steal some warmth and forget about the pain pulsating across his shoulders.

"We were lucky." Raven drops a pile of woods into the fire, "Those soldiers were sent by Ostia, which was notoriously known for having well-assorted organization of spies. I am actually surprised that they didn't catch up to us faster."

"You _wanted_ them to catch up to us? Anyway, I don't recall us having to do with Ostia. Why would they go through the trouble to come after us?"

"Sometimes, you don't have to do anything," Raven replies, "Just existing can be good enough reason for them to ruin you. That's how the government works."

"That's not fair…"

"We've been through this."

Uther turns his head to look at the large sleeping form beside him wrapped in brown blanket, "I'm amazed, though. He got caught up in all this craziness, and he never said anything about backing out."

"John… he comes a long way."

"Because you and his dad go way back during the war days?"

"Well, we didn't really talk to each other much. But yeah, we helped each other out. And, if it weren't for his son ended up working as a mercenary, we wouldn't have run into him at all." Raven plays with a rock he picked up from the ground, then tosses it into the flame, "I'm going to watch for ambush. Get some shuteye, but don't fall asleep."

"Got it." Uther closes his eyes. But the anxiety that is still lingering from the earlier fight is making him rather uneasy. He can feel his heart beating on his ribcage, and his breathing fast. Actually, that would probably be exactly what he wanted if he doesn't want to fall into a deep sleep. He wouldn't want to be stabbed by some random stranger in the middle of the night, completely defenseless. That would be tragic. Somewhat funny, but tragic.

Regardless, his weariness gets the best of him anyway.

* * *

Abruptly, Uther sits up to find himself in surrounded by fog. The warm campfire, the crisp air that carries the occasional gentle breeze, they're gone. Now, the air is dense as the mist crawls into his nostrils and down his throat. This forces Uther to gag and start coughing briefly yet violently. The feeling is repulsive. He tries breathing through his mouth. Bad idea. It's merely air he's taking in, but when it enters, it feels like drinking down something extremely viscous, like tasteless honey.

"_Oh god_,_ good grief_,_ don't associate honey with this! I love honey!_"

But, at least it is more bearable than breathing through his nose.

Once Uther is adjusted to the suddenly change of environment, he moves on to his second priority, "Dad? John? Can you see me? What's going on?" Whatever desire was left in Uther to go back to sleep is now gone. The fear of being completely lost surfaces from the depth of his mind.

The boy sweeps his hand across the ground he is sitting on. It now lacks the former rough texture of the small rocks and the soft yet itching feel of the grass blades. Taking its place is…

"_Wait_,_ what am I supposed to be feeling? I'm not… Am I… touching anything? No wait_,_ I can't even tell if I'm lifting up my hand right now. What am I looking at? What am I doing? What's going on?!_"Uther's breathing quickens, "_Okay_,_ okay. The fact that I can think obviously means I'm still alive. Stay calm. I'm sure my hands are still here_." He waves his arms, and with that, he makes out the hazy silhouette of his hands, "_Right. See? It's just this damn fog! Can't see a thing!_"

"There is no need to panic. You are still very much alive!" A deep voice nearly sends Uther jumping into the air.

"What was that?" Uther instinctively turns around to search for the origin of the voice. No one is behind him. He turns back, no one in front of him, either, "Alright, that was sca-"

"Twenty years, it is time to move on to the next phase," The same voice rings again, this time freezing Uther in his position, "Immortal soul trapped in mortal coil, the path to the gate is now ready for you. You are the key. You are the gate. Choose the doors which you wish to open." Before Uther can react, the fog disappears as if it has never existed before. Now he can see clearly what is around him. As if it was a stage, the scenery quickly changes into a long, narrow hallway stretching as far as the eye can see, and lined by carpet with thick, violet borders on both sides and intricately woven shapes and figures splayed repetitively across it. On both sides are walls with countless doors, each made of a different material, as well as a different color, a different frame, and a different… orientation? An upside-down door catches Uther's attention. It alone would be enough to convince him that he is now standing on the ceiling instead of the other way around. Moreover-

"… Who built a door like that? Wait, weird fog, weird room, weird doors. That must mean I'm-"

"Uther!"

"Uh- huuh?" Uther moans as he feels the sun rays piercing into his eyes. He was dreaming. "_Thank god I was dreaming!_"

"Get up! We're getting out of here! Still got quite a bit of walk before reaching Tania."

"_Dad? John? No_,_ is that dad?_" With his eyes still refusing to open up, Uther is trying to differentiate between the voice of his friend and that of his own father. Either way, he can feel a wave of relief washing through him, "Were we killed last night? By any chance?"" Uther mumbles.

"No. Last time I checked, we're still among the living. Your dad's exhausted from last night, so he's riding the horse this time. Come on, _hup_!" A big, calloused hand grabs onto Uther's arm and pulls him up.

"Ughhh… Why am I still so tired?"

"Because you're lazy. Try visiting the waking world more often. It will do you good. Come on! Get moving!" The pressure from the big hand is gone, followed by the crunching noise of the rocks getting further away, then stops, "Uther! Come on! Wake up already!"

The smaller man licks his lips, while his tongue itself is not even that wet. The same goes for his now-half-lidded eyes that are feeling the sharp pains. At first, Uther wants to say, "I'm coming!" But, feeling the scratchiness as his voice attempts to force its way through his throat, he decides to forget about replying and instead sluggishly drags his legs down the trail, while trying his best not to end up tumbling his way down to meet his traveling companions.

**Author's Notes:**

**Good grief… it's been more than a year. And finally**,** muses come knocking on the door. I finally figured out how the story will keep moving. And**,** having a fairly good grip on some of the characters' personalities (at least**,** I THINK I do)**,** I have a good idea how they will impact the storyline. For another few chapters or so.**

**I intend to make Uther more… soberish. But**,** he obviously doesn't want to get up. What Raven and John needs is a giant spatula to scoop him up to save themselves the effort of waking him.**

**I don't want to confuse the readers as to the road Uther takes to Araphen. So I looked up Elibe's map. I noticed there's a **"**Tania**"** right below **"**Kathelet**"** and to the right of **"**Caelin**"** and **"**Santaruz**"**. I haven't played the game for a loooong time! I don't remember if the gameplay ever involved any battle in Tania. Actually**,** there're lots of cities that weren't being mentioned in the game**,** it seems. Or**,** I just wasn't paying attention as I **"**A**"**'d my way through the dialogues.  
**


	6. Act I: Scene III: Link

Back at the small village near the mountains surrounding Bern, a horse whose hair has been soiled by the dirt and dust on the muddy trail slowly drags an empty wagon and a cloaked man holding a lantern before him. During this dark of the night, the stars studded across the sky like jewelries sewn on velvet. Maybe they come in handy when showing someone where to go, but whether or not someone will hit a tree? That's a different story.

Once the weary horse comes to a stop, the man jumps down from the wagon with the lantern in one hand, while the other one attempt to pull in the thin, ragged cloak even tighter before another one of those gentle wafting of the winter breeze cruelly snatches it away from him.

Stepping into the snow that has been piling up since the past week, the man does not even bother lifting his feet. Rather, his boots remain buried as he treads along the white earth. He does not seem to mind that small pieces of ice are slipping into his boots, melting and render his feet cold, wet, and most definitely pruny. As he approaches the door, he slowly reaches the knob then turns and gives the door a quick and strong push.

Inside the small house is almost no different from the outside. It is dark, and the windows, or rather, crude gaps on the walls, are less-than-satisfactory protection from the coldness (Unfortunately, the poor horse must endure the night outside as always. Perhaps a carrot for a treat tomorrow for being so brave). The only difference at this moment would be the bed, currently half-occupied, luring the man. But, he does not make his way to the bedroom. He pulls a wooden chair from the table and slumps against it, giving a loud creak that almost gives the man a fright. Thank goodness the force against the chair is not enough to trisect it into pieces.

Soon after, however, there is a faint thudding for footsteps, followed by the opening sound of a door, then more footsteps as they grow louder in the man's ears.

"I haven't seen you this tired for so long. What happened?" The shadowed figure behind the man speaks in a soft voice that carries a hint of grogginess.

The man does not turn to greet the person behind him. He stirs a bit, probably was dozing off before someone coming along, then he responds, "There're things going on, and I've been feeling uneasy about it."

"Does it have to do with the soldiers who were after Uther?" This one simple word comes out in a steady voice, barely masking the shaky tension behind it.

"Ostian soldiers. They've been after Uther for quite a while. What baffles me, though, is how they even know about Uther? After all, on the record, he's supposed to be dead."

"Obviously, we didn't do a good job making that a fact."

"Also, are you familiar with this man name Lord Wykeham?" the man continues, "… Nevermind, in any case, one of the nobles who resides in Ostia's territory, it looks like he was the one who made Uther a wanted man." The man takes a long pause afterwards, which he then takes the opportunity to close his eyes. Moments later, he hears footsteps muffled under the shuffling of the skirt.

"And?" As he opens his eyes, he vaguely sees the familiar face of his wife, who is now kneeling before him and looking up into his eyes, by the dimly-lit lantern, "You know, this is very important to me, too."

The man stares at his wife silently, until a faint smile creeps into his face. He slowly raises his right hand and stroke her chin with his thumb, "This is not a face showing concern. This is the face of a woman who just wants to torment her poor, tired husband, pulling him out of sleep," Regardless, he continues, "Anyways, I'm suspecting that this Lord Wykeham might know about Uther, and recently, he's been sending troops and hiring mercenary to Badon. They are taking a trip to Nabata desert."

"… That does not sound good at all. But, you know, there's always the possibility that it was for something completely unrelated."

"Maybe. Anyways-"

"You have been using a lot of 'anyways' lately."

"_Anyways_, they departed from the port three days ago, but they will be shipping more supplies and equipments. That would be a perfect opportunity for me to-"

"No," Iris interrupts, "you are NOT going there! Not to the desert on your own!"

"Oh, come on, now. This is not the first time I have visited the desert."

"'Visit' is such a nice way of putting it. You were sending yourself to your grave then, and that was almost twenty years ago! You haven't been a fighter for years! Don't do this!"

"I am a grown man, _Nino_. I can take care of myself just fine."

"Listen to yourself! You sound just like who you were! Wouldn't you-" The woman stops abruptly, "- never mind… But, you! To bed, now." She leans forward and kisses his muddy forehead.

"You don't know where I have been."

"I've kissed worse things," she smiles nonchalantly and returns to the bedroom, "Also, wash your face and change into something cleaner before coming to bed. I doubt tomorrow is a good day to be out washing the sheets by the river."

The man lets out a chuckle, then pulls off his cloak. The lantern that is now set on the table reveals the fiery redness that is his unkempt hair studded with beads of melting ice at the forelock, "You just can't help but stand on the knife's edge, isn't it, Angel of Death?"

"You holding up okay back there, Uther?" "No."

At this point, it doesn't matter what day of the month it is anymore. Out in the wilderness for so long, Uther's only concept of time is morning, noon, and night, or it might be based on when he gets to eat.

"Well, Tania is on the other side of this mountain," John looks at the long train of snow-covered strongholds of nature that is now seemingly growing larger and larger.

"Do we have to climb?" Uther asks as he lies in the wagon with a blank stare.

"No, well, it's just like any-"

"Okay, thank you."

"You didn't do anything today."

"Sorry for being unproductive with my life. For once after god-knows-how-long, we're NOT being pursued by somebody. I think I deserve sleep. Not to mention there's a different kind of fatigue just by lying around doing nothing."

"… so what are you doing now?"

"Making an effort trying to stay awake." Despite that, it does not seem to be working out well. The cold air is more stinging than usual to Uther's tired eyes.

"If you want to sleep, just go ahead."

"… no." a quiet, listless monotone escapes from his lips.

"Do you have a reason to stay awake?" Uther stays quiet., "… you're sleeping now, aren't you?"

""No. I'm still awake."

"Look, just… go to sleep." "… no."

"Fine." Much of the travel afterwards is filled with dead silence.

"… So, do you want to talk about something?" "…" "Uther?" It's not until now that John's ear picks up the even breathing noise nearby, "Ah… I knew it."

* * *

Meanwhile, somewhere on the sea to the west of Badon, there's a ship sailing to Nabata desert, the famed wasteland southwest of Etruria. It's hard to believe that with a nation like Etruria, whichh has a rich history of artistic and literary culture as well as military strength that rivals Bern's own fleet of wyvern knights, there would be a vast, barren, field of sand just across the nation's border. The dividing line between the two regions of land is so cutting that it looks as if there is a barrier being cast across Etruria's border. Is it to prevent the dangers that lurk behind the yellow windstorms from invading the divine nation of St. Elimine? Or to prevent mankind from spreading their influence further than they already have?

Regardless, that barrier has no true power, especially over those who travel by sea. On the aforementioned ship, a man in green trench coat leans on the starboard and gazes into the endless blue. Judging from his blank expression, he is certainly not enjoying himself. Can he be blamed? The ship crews are hustling and bustling, minding their own business. The soldiers and mercenary who are also on this ship are not exactly the most interesting bunch to strike up a conversation. From rusty armors to ragged animal skin, they are equally loud and rambunctious. They drink. They wrestle. And, if they are drunk, there's probably a bloody fistfight somewhere on the ship. In fact, there's one going on right now, two people trying to pummel each other into bloody pulps, giving a black-eye, knocking out a tooth. The brawl is being further encouraged by other drunk soldiers and merchants surrounding the two, shouting the chant-like words "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Over and over again. The man in green has no idea how long the fight has been going on, but he knows that the floor by now Is covered in rum and blood.

"Of all the people in the world, I have to be mixed up with this crowd…" he sighs, "The ship isd not that big. It doesn't even have an Ostian flag. And, now I'm being shipped off to Nabata desert. Ahhh… this better not be a scam. Or I'm going to find that guy and demand compensation!"

"… But I can't really go back home right now. No, anywhere's better than back home. Yes, nothing's worse than having to deal with that old bat after twenty years of hell." Suddenly, there's a loud and repulsive mix of crunching and squishing noise that breaks his thoughts. It comes from the place where the fight has taken place earlier.

"Awww!!! Right in the face!" "Think this guy's still alive?"

The man shudders at the conversation taking place right now, "Yes… no matter how bad things get, it can't be worse than that…" He talks to himself as he buries his face into his palms.

"Hey you! What's your name!?" A gruff voice pulls him out of his comfort zone.

"Huh?" Turning around, he sees a bald, portly man wearing a shirt covered in grey, black, and some brownish-red blotches and barely covers the hairy flab of a stomach and a pair of tattered black pants.

"Never mind, I'm just going to call you Bob."

"What?!" Now confused with an addition of surprise, the man's eyes widen in utter disbelief.

"Look, just get over here and help out the crew! One of our men just got knocked out from the fight, and you seem to be the only one who wasn't drunk off his asses like the rest of them sellswords. So, fill in for him!"

"… …" The man isn't budging.

"Hey, you hear me!? I said move it! Get over here, or I might as well be tossing you over as fish bait! God, these no-good-" Grumbling to himself, the crewman stomps away.

"… … I'm Hugh, you know…" And, somewhere out there, a fish jumps out of the water, causing a huge splash no one sees.

* * *

Just when Uther is curling into a ball to try to keep warm, right above him, a bucket of ice cold water hits right on to his face. The splashing noise, the stinging cold, he feels, hears, and tastes it all at once, forcing him awake even if he doesn't like it.

"Agh!! Ahhh!!! What the hell?!" Angry and frustrated, Uther sits up on the wooden surface.

"Lunch is ready. Eat it now or stay hungry until sundown." John playfully twirls the bucket on his fingertips before setting it down next to him.

"Can't you wake me up the way a normal person would?" Uther says as he jumps off the wheel.

"My friend, you're not normal. Therefore, you don't deserve to be treated as such. Here." Getting a bowl from Raven, John passes it to the shorter man, "Eat up."

Taking a whiff from the steaming bowl of... smells like boiled water. No, it's more than boiled water. There's something that is supposedly sweet-scented, albeit very faint. Whatever is in Uther's hand is a bowl of boiling water with yellow-white pieces of mystery substance floating on top. If looked closely, it almost looks like it's trying to form a shape, turn into some kind of animal, or sending a message.

"Uther, stop staring at it. It's oatmeal."

"Dad, we could have just burned the rocks and fry the oatmeal like we used to. We can eat on the road that--" Uther is immediately being greeted by Raven's glare.

"Your old man can't stay warm like he used to. If you don't want it, give it to me."

"Um… I'll take it." Uther hastily gulps down the soup from the bowl. Unfortunately, he should have at least blown away the steam and try to cool it down first.

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!!"

"Ugh! Now you wasted it!"

"Shut it." Muttering under his breath, Uther wipes his mouth with his arm.

"In any case, you've been sleeping quite a lot recently."

"I know, John, I've been very tired and have nothing better to do."

"You feeling sick?"

"No. More like… I think I _need_ to go back to sleep. Lately, I've been having dreams."

"… So?" John is focusing on getting himself seconds.

"I always wake up without being able to finish one. Like the one just earlier, where you splashed water on me. It's kind of annoying. I do want to know what happens next."

"Eh… don't dwell on it. By tomorrow, I'll bet you won't even remember what you were dreaming about in the first place."

"Hm… maybe I should write it down somewhere."

"Maybe you should. Except you have the handwriting of a chicken. Work on that."

"I'm curious now, though," Choosing to ignore his friend's comment about his penmanship, Uther continues, "Like that dream I had a couple of times where I'm in a hall surrounded by doors. I'd like to open just one of them. Like that one."

"Which one?"

"The one um… I ahh, forgot. It was just a weird door."

"Did you open it?"

"I don't know. I probably did. But, that was a few days ago. I don't remember If I actually saw what's on the other side."

* * *

As the wooden door of a small closet opens, Hugh stumbles out of the dark, small space, struggling to carry several unevenly stacked tower of crates that almost matches his own height if he sets it by his foot.

"This… wasn't… in the… oof! Contract! … Hnhhn…" Taking a few steps forward, Hugh loses his strength and lets the boxes slips from his arms and crashes onto the floor. This attracts the portly man from earlier who has ordered Hugh to help the crew as well as a few other sailors.

"What were you doing!? That was three months worth of food, and you crushed them all! If you weren't paid by the nobles, I'd have thrown you out of the ship by now!" At this point the face of the portly man is glowing red.

"Hey, listen here! I was hired by Ostian noble to find treasure, not to be bossed around by you! I'm helping out right now because I'm being generous here! You should be thankful!"

"Are you kidding me? Look, kid, you think you're the only one who's hired by the big, glorious noble? Everyone on this ship is hired by noble! You wanna know what they hired ME for? Keep the ship sailing, and keep you lot from trying to eat each other from getting hungry. And to do my job, I'm gonna do whatever it takes." The man leans forward until his face is barely an inch away from Hugh's. His warm breath reeks of the meat and fish he has eaten over the years. His eyes narrow, "Even if it means working you like a dog."

Both disgusted by the breath and somewhat frightened by the obviously larger man, Hugh is at a loss for words.

"So, I hope we have an agreement here--" Numerous loud yells interrupt the man, "We'll discuss this after I finish dealing with whatever the hell's going on outside." He leaves Hugh alone and steps out of the cabinet. The yelling persists.

"… … What the hell was that?" Hugh looks down at the collapsed crates, broken pieces of wood, and piles on top of piles of squashed fruit and spilled grains. He whistles, "Aaaand, I'm not going to clean that up. Might as well see what the ruckus is all about." Tiptoeing away from the mess he has left, Hugh reaches and twists the doorknob.

He shouldn't have.

"Holy crap!" The scene before his eyes right now might as well be an apocalypse. It is a complete bloodbath. First thing Hugh is able to register are the soldiers, mercenary, sailors, ship crew, one another they punch, bite, maim, stab, killing whatever that moves in front of them. The second thing Hugh registers (and a night at the bar will slowly erase everything, hopefully) is the metallic smell that creeps into his nose and down his throat, making him taste it. Then he looks down.

He should have just been content with smelling things.

A loud crash catches Hugh's attention. To his left, Hugh turns and sees the portly man just got thrown across the ship and smashed into the cabin's wall. Face pale on the verge of turning blue, having lost blood from a massive amount of stab wounds.

"I definitely did not get paid for this." "AHHHHHHH!!" A loud shriek breaks his thoughts, right in front of him there's a wide-eyed sailor with foamy mouth who is charging at Hugh with a blade.

First instinct, get back into the cabin and keep the door shut.

The blade pierces through the door, just a few inches away from making a shish-kabob out of Hugh's skull.

Trembling, Hugh tries to gather his thoughts, "Okay, Hugh, think. You're tall, handsome, and smart. You're not meant to die like this. Man, that would be a waste…" Another blade makes an attempt to pierce the cabin door, this time situated right under his crotch, sending him screaming and running into the closet not far away.

Closing the door, Hugh sits in a corner and wraps his arms around himself, quietly whispering, "Oh god, please don't find me here please don't find me here pleasedon'tfindmeherepleasedon'tfindmeherepleasedon'tfindmehere" He can hear the door crashes down, and noises of people approaching.

"Granny? It's me, Hugh. I swear, if I live through this, I promise to never, ever run away again." Right then, the closet door opens, and all become silent for Hugh.

Looking up wet with tears, sweat, and snots (and probably other things, too), Hugh sees a soldier with bloodshot eyes and a big toothy grin. Under different circumstances, this might have been a hello.

"Oh. Dear. God."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**I could have described what Hugh saw when he decided to looked down upon the carnage. But then I felt that would ruin the imagination, which is far more gory than I can ever put into words.  
**


End file.
